standing there staring at her like an idiot. It was the first time someone had told him that.
Rather than trying to think of what to say in response, he muttered, “We should get back, before we both freeze.”
She nodded and stepped down from the hut, closed the door behind her and started along the path ahead of him. He drifted along behind her, a strange sensation growing inside him, one that warmed him. Because she had admired his singing voice?
Pride swelled inside him, had him walking a little taller.
They were halfway to the cabin when a gust of wind came out of nowhere, making him almost lose his footing on the compacted snow.
Holly lost hers.
She slipped and her arms flailed, a shriek ripping from her as she started to go down. Saint lunged for her, grabbed her arm before she hit the deck and kept her on her feet. Barely. He pulled her up and she stumbled into him, slid again and braced her hand against his chest. Her grey-green eyes darted to his.
Hunger rolled through him, had him close to growling as his gaze fell to her lips, as a need to kiss her crashed over him. He stared at her mouth, wanted to groan as her lips parted in response, as his heart pounded a frantic beat against his ribs—against her palm.
The temptation to kiss her was great, but before he could muster the courage to bend his head and capture her lips, he noticed how badly she was trembling.
“You shaking because of the cold or because you’re scared of me?” he husked, praying to the gods it was the former, even when he didn’t like the thought of her being cold. It was better than the thought that she feared him.
Holly eased closer to him, openly seeking his warmth in a way that made him want to growl. “I’m freezing.”
It was strange but addictive to have her this close to him, pressed up against him, even if she was only trying to steal his heat. He dialled back his need, caged his urges, and placed his arm around her. He tucked her against him, waiting for the inevitable protest.
She said nothing, just nestled closer to him, sinking into his side as they walked. Her steps were too slow for his liking, her breathing too shaky. He faced her, bent his knees, and scooped her up into his arms. She didn’t even protest then. She sighed and snuggled up to him, her breath warm on his neck.
Gods, it felt good to hold her like this.
To take care of her.
It felt right.
He carried her the rest of the way to his cabin, didn’t set her down until he had reached the couch. He placed her on it and looked her over, frowned at how pink her fingers were and her face. She didn’t make him stop when he removed her boots, or when he rubbed her toes through her socks to get some warmth into them. She didn’t even push him away when he removed her damp coat, revealing a basic red long-sleeved T-shirt that wasn’t at all suitable for the weather conditions.
No wonder she was cold.
He rose to his feet and went to the door, closed it and hung her coat up and then stripped his off. He kicked his boots off and went back to her as she tried to lean forwards, stretching her hands out towards the fire.
Saint crossed the span of fur between her and it, grabbed the end of the couch nearest her and pulled it towards the log burner, moving her closer to it.
He cast a glance at her as she looked at him, gratitude in her eyes.
He sank to his knees in front of her again and rubbed her arms, quickly at first but the strokes slowed as he grew aware of her watching him, her eyes on his face. He lifted his to meet them, stilled as he lost himself in the look she was giving him, one that made him want to kiss her.
She had accepted his warmth. Would she accept his kiss?
Saint didn’t think so, and he didn’t want to frighten her, so he forced himself to stand again and went to the kitchen. He filled the kettle with water from a container he kept beside the sink and set it on the stove, and then hunted through the cupboards, looking for the packets of hot chocolate he was sure he had seen somewhere.
He wanted to growl when they